Mudwhat?
by Arda-Xanth
Summary: A young Draco Malfoy learns the 'm word'. One-shot


**Mudwhat?**  


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and the characters, places, plots associated. I do own this story. Oh, I don't own Nabisco either.

A/N: Flames welcome, please review.

* * *

Draco whimpered to himself, sitting off in the corner. He couldn't ever remember a time when there was more than two other people in his spacious playroom. Having all these big kids around was making him nervous.

Leaning to the left and standing straight up, he could just see the glint of strawberry blonde hair between two seven year old girls, playing with adult make-up. Meandering in that direction, he tried to weave his was through the other, more rambunctious kids. None of these people were his friends, and frankly, most of them frightened him. Obedient boy that he was, young Draco sought out the 'adult' for safety.

At the other end of the play area, a teenage girl sat quietly besides the snacks table. Her skin was pale like his, but she had freckles on her cheeks. A few weeks later he would ask Narcissa to give him freckles for Christmas. She wore wire-rim glasses and her hair was bound in a French braid, which was begining to fall down. It was a very bright shade, and so easy to find in a crowd. He might love red hair forever. She wasn't very pretty like Mother, but Draco thought his baby-sitter was nice despite it. She had given him a cookie, and not just any cookie, but an Oreo. He couldn't understand why he had never eaten one before.

Just as he was about to dart over to her, a tall boy stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Draco tilted his angelic face all the way back to see him, and decided he didn't care much, and moved to walk around him. It wasn't that he was better than this boy,--he wouldn't have that mentality until he was older--but he wasn't going to be deterred now.

"Kid, what's your name?" he asked gruffly.

"Draco."

"No, your last name."

"Malfoy. What's yours?"

"Flint."

"Oh...How do you do?"

Flint looked amused by that polite question. At that time, Draco might have been a very adorable little girl, with his wavy, flaxen hair and effeminate mannerisms. It was plain that Narcissa had taken it upon herself to teach him ettiquite, and Draco emulated her too fully.

"Right, Draco, so who's that girl there?" he asked, pointing to the meek girl with plaited tresses.

"Her name's...um...Per-seph-on-e." he said, breaking the difficult word into syllables.

"Why is she here?"

"Because Mother and Father like her dad. Her dad is the head of the Department of Myst'ries." he provided helpfully.

"So, she is a mudblood. Here, come on. Me and a couple others are going to pour the punch on her."

"How come? Does she have cooties?" This was the first time he had been in a situation with both boys and girls his age, so cooties were entirely new to him.

"I already told you she's a mudblood."

"What's that?"he asked. Lucius and Narcissa refrained from using that term around him until he had a little more discretion. It would be bad indeed if little Draco blurted out something about mudbloods in front of a Ministry official.

Flint looked at him incredulously. After a moment spent in carefully judging the pros and cons, he explained "People like you and me...Our parents are wizards, and their parents were wizards and so were their parents and it goes back all the way. Persephone's mum is a Muggle. You know what that is?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, that makes her a mudblood, and that makes us better than her...So, we're going to pour the punch on her head."

"Oh," Draco said, then pointed out, "that's not very nice."

"Sure it is. She's a nasty mudblood. Might clean her up a bit."

"Really?"

Flint nodded and the two of them walked over to Persephone, reading a story book to Pansy Parkinson, who was much cuter as a child. Draco stopped and sat down at the edge of the rug, watching as Flint edged forward and asked her something as a distraction while two other boys and a girl lifted the heavy glass punch bowl. Crawling onto the table, the girl positioned it over Persephone's head while the boys on either side offered balance.

Leaning forward, she tilted the bowl and neon-bright liquid surged over the girl's face, hair, shoulders, lap and down into a pink puddle around her feet. While the children giggled and pointed their icing-covered fingers her way, Persephone leapt up and ran from the room.

* * *

A perplexed Draco stood outside the door to this bathroom, debating. He wasn't suposed to go in there if somebody else was in there, but he felt like he should. but what if she had left so fast because she really had to use the loo?

He rose up on tip-toe again and opened the door, peeking around the corner tentatively. Persephone was sitting on the toliet, mopping the beverage off herself and hoping that she wouldn't ruin Mrs. Malfoy's towel. Miserably, she twisted her dripping hair over the sink and sniffled.

"'Sephone?"

"Huh?"

He crept into the room and settled himself on marble ledge of the bath tub, kicking his heels against the back. "Is your hair going to be pink now?"

She sighed dolefully. "Maybe."

"Did you get red punch dumped on you the first time?"

She chortled and sniffed again, smiling weakly at him. She continued to dry her wet skin and he continued to hit his heels on the tub, nibbling an Oreo. Silently, he held out one to her from his pocket and she accepted. One day it would not be this way, but for now, an Oreo was enough.

* * *

A/N: One of these days I'll have the nerve to make Draco as mean a he should be. Of course, he's like four here.


End file.
